worst crimes have been carried out in the name of love.
Sonny Wortzik was the man who slept beside her. Who kissed her cheek after turning the lights off, who made sweet love to her on the days he was jumpy, who dropped her kids to school, who went to work with the lunch she packed, tucked under his arm, and complained about the government, he wasn’t the man that was supposed to be on the TV. He was utterly normal. In the most mundane, suburban way possible. But then… things happen irrespective of whether you want them or not.
“Mama! Dad’s on TV, Uncle Sal too!" Tony yelled across the room. Regina had been making dinner, grumbling about the bank robbery she’d been hearing about. “Mama look!” Tony cried again. Regina finally looked up, hands on her hips. “What is it, baby?” she mumbled, trying her best to sound soft; the poor kid had no hand in the day being so hard. “Dad on TV!” he chuckled, pointing to the screen.
“What—no baby, how can Dad be on TV?” Regina murmured, too tired to argue with a toddler. She went back to her vegetables. “But it is Dad!”
Jeez. The kid was relentless.
Gina finally dropped the knife onto the chopping board and walked towards Tony, mostly to shut the TV off.
The sound of the TV grew louder the more she walked towards it.
Local bank taken hostage by two homosexuals. Names were found out to be Sonny Wortzik and Salvatore Naturile.
The reporter read. Regina stopped dead . Tony, the kid at her feet, unknowing of the gravity, could only smile as he saw his father’s face on the screen. “Dad!” giggled.
Regina stood frozen in place, like all the air had been sucked out of her. Her throat ran dry. She dropped onto the couch. A strangled sob crawled its way out of her throat. The toddler turned to face his mother. Suddenly confused at his mother's tears.
“Don’t cry, Mama. Dad on TV,” the kid babbled, small hands soothing her knees. Regina sobbed louder. Her chest felt tight. A vice gripping itself around her heart and squeezing the life out of it..
Tears form hot and wet when you try to stand strong. Regina’s whole body had shuddered with each wretched sob. Tony, God bless his soul, had tried his best to soothe his crying mother with the tiny pats of his hands.
One night you’re laying beside your husband planning your vacation, and the next evening he’s branded a homosexual on national TV.
Regina picked Tony up in her arms and kissed his temples; the kid wrapped its arms around her neck.
When someone pulls the rug from under your feet, you fall flat on your ass. It hurts, until you realize the floor’s still there. It’s just no longer soft, or pretty.
Regina wiped her eyes, kissing the kid’s neck. Rocking him. Like touching something would ground her to reality. Like holding Tony would bring her back to her plane, like it would erase what she had just heard.
It didn’t take long for a tired and hungry toddler to fall asleep.
With Tony tucked in bed and the TV switched off, Regina realized that the clock read 12. The news wasn’t a misnomer. Neither was it her husband’s hypothetical evil twin.
She dragged her legs to the phone, hands shaking, as she pulled out the phone book and dialed the number to the bank.
If she calls Sonny and he picks up, it’s no longer Schrödinger’s heist. She can no longer tell herself that he was probably dragged into it or framed. The truth would be out. And to accept that the man you had married, that the father of your child, is not only a bank robber but also queer, wasn’t something that Regina was ready to do.
Grief was an absurd thing. It wants you to hold onto the semblance of comfort. To wrap a wound it gauze and let it heal, but it also wants to see the gaping slash, it wants to touch it, poke it till the hurt was memorized.
She dialed the number with shaky hands. The line stayed silent for a moment, then someone picked up.
She sucked in a breath. Sal’s unmistakable voice had answered into the receiver.
“We ain’t negotiating nothing."
Regina’s throat had given in once again. Dry.
“Where’s Sonny?” she whispered into the phone. Sal stiffened on the other side.
She almost shrieked at the name.
“SHUT UP! WHERE’S SONNY!?” she yelled. The reporter's words still ingrained in the back of her mind..
Homosexual man holds hostages in bank downtown. Demands include money for trans partner’s surgery.
Gina could swear that her whole body retched at that thought.
God had given her everything for a while. Happy parents. Doting husband. Lovely child. A face that was easy to look at.
Then it took everything away. Gave it to someone who had to beg permission to exist in a way they liked.
Her sonny. Robbing a bank for some other woman. Cozying up to some man that pretends to be a woman.
The tragedy wasn't that Sonny was leaving her for a trans woman, neither was it that Sonny was queer. The tragedy laid in the fact that in a society where absurd gods and abstract scriptures had dictated their lives Sonny had chosen someone else over Regina. Man, woman, anything in between.
“Gina?” Sonny’s voice trailed through the other side. All the anger in her voice had crystallized into sorrow it seemed. All that came out of her was a sob.
“Why’d you do it?—why—why—why was I not enough?” she whimpered into the phone. Lord help Gina. She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him the way his erasure of her had hurt her. Make him bleed. Ask him why he’d ruin her life like this. But all that came out was a pathetic plea, dressed as a question. Why couldn't you love me?
Sonny froze on the other side. He had built an armor around himself. To defend his love for Leon. To defend Leon to anyone who called her anything other than what she considered herself to be. But Regina… sweet, angry Regina had found elsewhere to hit.
Sonny blinked, suddenly, his mouth feeling dry. “I—I, Gina—” he mumbled. Regina’s soft whimpers had travelled across the receiver, unwelcomed and prominent, like bruises blooming on our skin where you can't hide them.
“You’re my husband,” she choked again. Lie. A pathetic institution that now laid in ruins. “I married you. Why—why’re they saying you married her in secret? Why, Sonny, why? You are mine. You were mine.” She sobbed harder. Like loudness was proportional to validity. Maybe if she said it enough times, maybe if she'd say it loud enough it would hold meaning again. Be sacred again. Maybe Sonny would come back home again. Her voice anything but utterly broken.
Regina sounded like a child whose favorite plush was just given to some other kid. Sonny choked on his own saliva, heart clenching. He loved her, he truly did. Regina was his best friend. He just couldn’t love her the way she needed him to.
“Gina—I—I’m sorry,” Sonny croaked out, as if apologies can undo years of erasure and infedilty. His hand came up, rubbing over his face in an attempt to wipe his tears. The cold metal of his wedding touched his eyes like mockery. Cheap metal. Cheaper make. Nothing but a relic of a promise he had upheld and stamped on.
“I fucked up, Gina." He muttered. A strangled sob followed. "Baby—I—I ruined everything, God. Tony—oh God. I fucked everything up,” he whispered finally, tears running down his face now.
The sound of her name on his tongue felt like a dagger to her chest.
Regina had curled up on the sofa. Absence leaves you feeling cold. She pulled her legs up to her chest and sobbed.
“Sonny Wortzik, you’re the bane of my existence.”
Regina didn’t know when he hung up. Or she didn’t care. He’d hung up on their marriage way earlier anyways.
She had spent the night sobbing on the floor. When the sobbing had ceased, she’d looked around the room only for the realization to set that her marriage was a sham and was in a casket. The house smelt like Sonny. Heck, Tony looked like Sonny.
How long would it take for her to forget how his laughter sounded?
Regina sobbed again. Like that would tire her enough so she wouldn't have to feel anything , head in her hands, body wracking at the intensity. She sobbed till her sternum hurt and her brain swam. The bed still was dipped on the side where Sonny slept. His shirt still on the hanger.
How can someone make a life and then just get up and leave it in ruins?
She had called her sister to look after Tony just as the sun rose. Nellie didn’t ask many questions; sisters never do. She just held Gina’s shuddering body and whispered,
“Sonny’s an asshole, Gina.”
The drive to the bank had been quiet. The streets were crowded. Protestors, kids, adults, police. It was a mess.
Sonny was just at the door. Hands on his hips. Lips split. Hair a mess, shirt half unbuttoned. Yelling “Attica!” at the top of his voice like he was the devil himself.
Her heart jumped in leaps, clenching and unclenching. She jumped out the car in an instant and ran. Tore through the crowd and under the tape and towards Sonny before the police could grab her.
She sank into his frame with a collision. Sonny stumbled back but held her trembling body anyways. The police had taken a step, but he grabbed her and took a step back anyways.
Gina’s hands clutched around his shirt as she sobbed.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you lie to me? Why, why? You’re my husband. I married you. You could have told me. Why’d you go and try to rob a bank, baby?” she sobbed.
He ran a hand through her hair. The crowd outside didn't matter anymore. The world zeroed into to the sobbing woman in his arms. His wife. The mother of his child. The woman he had slept beside for years.
“I’m sorry, baby, so sorry. I love Leon. I wish I didn’t.”
Some well-meaning person in the crowd had made the mistake of saying how queer folks are ruining the lives of good people. And that did it.
No one calls Regina Wortzik’s husband a faggot. She tore away from him and turned faced the crowd.
“SHUT UP!” she yelled, voice raw, louder than Sonny had ever heard her. He flinched.
“SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! YOU AND YOUR STUPID LAWS AND YOUR MADE-UP GODS AND YOUR MADE-UP DOCTRINES. YOU. YES, YOU RUIN PEOPLE’S LIVES. NOT HIM. NOT PEOPLE LIKE LEON. YES, HE SCREWED ME OVER. YES, HE KNOCKED ME UP ALL THE WHILE SCREWING SOME OTHER BITCH, SOME MAN. SO WHAT? IT’S NOT LIKE HE COULD HAVE LEGALLY MARRIED LEON. YES, HE ROBBED A BANK! SO WHAT! NONE OF Y’ALL WOULD HAVE LOANED HIM TO GET THE SURGERY. SO GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSES. LOVE LOOKS A LOT OF DIFFERENT WAYS!”
Sonny froze. Regina was huffing. Her heart was pumping like it had run a marathon. Her knees wobbled. He held her back into his chest. An officer had taken a step forward. “Miss, I need you to move back.” Regina only clung to him more. “No, please no. I haven’t held him in a day,” she sniffled.
Sonny finally let himself feel the devastation of his actions . A lady officer had pried Regina off. Moretti, the officer, sighed as he handcuffed Sonny. Regina was still sobbing, a blabbering mess. The hostages were being taken out now. The crowd was clearing.
Sometimes you stand in the rubble, because even the ruins of an altar are sacred. Gina, Leon, Sonny too stood in the ruins of their love. The world was too stubborn to change its rules. And their love was too strong to let go.
Sonny Wortzik walked out as a hero for the queer community. And no famous hero was both alive and happy.
AAHAHAH OKAY so it's very loosely based upon the film, i really js wanted to write gut punching angst, also reworked angela as Regina. i wanted the conflict to be about how he lies and how society has forced him to lie, i wanted regina's rage directed towards her helpless situation and not just about the fact that sonny's gay/in love with a trans person.
'kay baiii hope ya'll liked it T—T
likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated babies <3
(lmao hate taylor for being a billionaire but this song captures the essence the best)
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